Turn Away from Yesterday
by suspect tomatoes
Summary: Being straightedge isn't all that it's cracked up to be. Punk/OC.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So I watched a movie while I was delirious, and it gave me an idea that I don't think anyone has ever touched on in the history of this site. I don't think. So, here it goes.**

Isabella Clifford pushed open the smoke-filled bar, frowning when she spotted the black hair all the way in the back against the wall. If he hadn't called her with such a tearful drip in his tone, she would've told him to fuck off. But he seemed upset, and being the sap she was, she agreed to meet him before he went back on the road.

He was smoking when she got to the table. _Smoking_. The Straight-edge Superstar was _smoking _in a seedy bar on the wrong side of town, his matted black hair sticking out from underneath his navy blue beanie.

She stopped, her hand poised on the greasy wooden chair in front of him. "You're smoking."

He looked up, his eyes rimmed red, but not like he was crying. His skin was almost a sallow color, like he hadn't been eating well. He tapped his ash on the floor and looked away.

She found herself lowering into the seat. "Punk, what's wrong?"

He licked his chapped and pale lips, pulling on the cigarette so hard, she actually heard the paper burning away. He inhaled and glanced at her, but look in the other direction again, blowing out a long stream.

"You're certainly good at that, seeing as how you've only been a smoker for the past few months."

He smiled humorlessly, rubbing his thumb against the slick tabletop. "It's been that long?"

"About three, four months." She shrugged. "Not that I've been counting or anything."

"How have you been? Getting any work?"

"I did a commercial the other day. For shower gel."

She could tell he was trying to hide his smile, putting his mouth into the crook of his elbow, against the wool of his jacket.

Isabella grimaced. "Are you feeling okay?"

Phil looked up, blinking slowly. His eyes weren't white – they were yellowish. Like he was a zombie, or something. "Bell, I really – "

"Wanna drink, sweetheart?"

Isabella looked over at the bartender who'd been wiping down the tables a couple of feet from them. She turned back to Phil. "You want something?"

"Scotch on the rocks," he called.

Isabella blinked at him, but slowly craned her neck, looking at the bartender over her shoulder. "Can I just have a bottle of water?"

"Only got tap."

Bella grimaced. "I'm... I'm good, then. Thanks."

He shrugged and lumbered back behind the bar.

Isabella faced Phil, frowning. "Since when do you drink?"

He lifted a shoulder, holding up his black-chipped fingers. "Since I started smoking."

"And why'd you start smoking?"

He swallowed hard, looking at her with the strongest gaze she'd seen from him since the night they first met. "I... Bell, I need to tell you something."

She pushed a tendril back from her face, pouting. "What's wrong?"

"I..." He frowned and looked away, closing his eyes when the bartender thumped an icy glass in front of him. "Thanks."

The guy turned to Bella. "You sure you don't – "

She held up a hand. "Thanks."

He winked and walked off.

Bella curled her fingers against her palm, contemplating if should she slid them through his. It just wasn't right. They weren't together... anymore. She put her hand against the sticky table, tapping her nails.

"Bell, I'm... I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to listen to me."

She nodded. "Okay."

"No. I mean it. I need you to listen to me."

"Okay, Punk, don't worry."

He sighed and tossed his cigarette butt into the untouched drink, listening to it fizzle at the top. His fingernails were yellow underneath the black. "Bell, I'm not at a good place in my life right now."

"I noticed."

"You said you'd listen."

She held up her hands. "I'm sorry. Continue."

He groaned, rubbing his palm down his face tiredly. "Things started... changing after we got divorced."

She stayed silent.

"I... I started feeling sick. Really sick. So I went to the doctor's, and..."

Oh, god. Bella covered her mouth.

Phil looked up, his eyes widening. "Wait, no! Please. Stop."

"What? I'm not doing anything!"

"You're judging me. Please, _god_, don't judge me."

"No, I'm not! I'm just preparing myself."

He shook his head. "Nothing's gonna prepare you for this, Bell."

Bell. He'd always called her that – he liked it. Reminded him of a princess, he'd said. Now all it reminded her of was what they'd went through trying to keep their relationship afloat. Unfortunately, it was not a story-book ending.

But the way he blinked at her then, almost in tears, she couldn't help but reach over and wind her fingers around his palm, shaking it a little.

"Bell..."

"Punk, tell me straight." She could feel her own tears brimming her lids, but she pushed them back, sucking her lips in to moisten them. "Do you…" She swallowed the lump at the back of her throat. "Do you have cancer?"

He shook his head. "No."

The constricting hand that had tightened around her heart slowly loosened, and she felt herself begin to breathe again. He didn't have cancer.

"I have AIDS."

**A/N: I figured it was worth a shot. I'm sick of the typical love stories on here, so might as well make fucked up ones. Review.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm glad people were intrigued.**

_I have AIDS_.

Isabella shook out of her reverie when she heard a series of horns go off behind her. She looked in her rearview mirror and saw a huge line forming behind her car, then back at the green light that had, undoubtedly, changed a couple of minutes ago.

It had started snowing again, harder than before. Bella could barely see out the front window as she tore down the sloshy streets.

_I have AIDS_.

A shiver ran down her spine as she turned into the driveway of her friend's place. She'd left Punk at the bar in a hurry, barely allowing him any explanation. It wasn't fair to him, she knew that, but it was just... too intense. She shouldn't have to put up with it anymore – she wasn't his wife.

Georgie opened the door, smiling. "Hi! Danny's asleep – "

"Punk has AIDS." Isabella stepped past her and headed into the living room, leaving Georgie in the foyer with her mouth open.

She heard the door slam, but Bella was already laid out on the couch, face covered by her hands.

"What did you just say?"

"Phil has AIDS." She sighed and sat up. "_AIDS_, Georgie."

"Oh, my God. How's he handling it?"

She shrugged, sniffling. "I don't know. I left him in such a hurry – "

"Wait. Did he tell you and you just – "

"I freaked out." She ran her hand back over her hair. "So I left."

Georgie sat down beside her, her mouth covered. "That was kind of rude, Bella."

"I know! All right? I know." She closed her eyes, barely feeling the tears leak out. "I was just... so frightened."

"Does he know how he got it?"

Bella shook her head, lip quivering. "He doesn't know. Probably from his fucking diva girlfriends!"

"He didn't have any blood transfusions?"

"You don't get it that way anymore, but no." She wiped her nose with her wrist. "Do you have a tissue?"

Georgie reached behind them and snagged the Kleenex from the table, frowning as Bella took three or four. "Did he sleep with those girls?"

"He had to have!"

"Isn't he straightedge?"

Bella looked up. "Huh? Oh. I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"Does he know how long he's had it?"

Bella sighed shakily, scrubbing the tears away. "No. Well, we've been divorced for a few months now... we were together for three years before then. So at least three years."

"Wow. That's scary."

"I know." Bella started tearing the tissue apart, her mouth shaking while her eyes reddened. "Georgie. I could have it."

Georgie shook her head. "No. You can't."

"There aren't any symptoms. Well, there are when you first get it, but it's like getting the flu." She blew her nose. "I could have it. I probably do have it."

"No. Isabella, you listen to me." She turned her friend when she wouldn't look at her. "You do not have it. You understand me?"

"Georgie," Bella whispered. Her eyes were practically closed. "Danny could have it."

"No."

"If Punk had it when we had him... " Bella looked up the stairs, where her son was currently napping in one of the rooms. "It's possible."

"I really think you need to talk to him."

"I can't."

"Why, Bella?"

She shook her head. "I was so rude. So cruel. I just tore out of that bar so fast. He'll never forgive me for that."

"Yeah, well, if he gave your son AIDS because he was sleeping with girls with two first names, he should be the one worrying about forgiveness."

Bella sighed quietly. "Should I? Go talk to him, I mean."

"Yes. But leave Danny here."

"Georgie, it's not contagious like that – "

"That's why you ran out of there like he had the plague, right?"

Bella looked at her hands.

"Can never be too careful." Georgie patted her shoulder. "Go talk to him, sweetie. You need to straighten this shit out."

* * *

Punk looked surprised when he opened his door. Tired, but surprised. "Bell?"

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. She couldn't bear to look at him. "For earlier. But we need to talk."

"Yeah. Sure." He held the door open wider. "Come on in."

Bella stepped into the house they once called theirs, frowning at the pictures of them still up on the walls.

"Do you want to hang up your coat?"

She flinched away when he touched her collar, but immediately regretted it when she saw the sad sheen in his eyes. "I'm sorry." She took it off and hung it up herself. "I didn't mean – "

"It's fine."

"Punk – "

"Do you have Danny with you?" he asked hopefully.

Bella frowned, but shook her head. "No. He's still at Georgie's."

The last shred of happiness fell from his face and he nodded. "I guess it's for the best."

"Punk." Bell crossed her arms vulnerably. "We need to talk about your situation."

He smiled softly. "Situation. It sounds so nice when you say it like that."

"I'm sorry. Was that insensitive of me?"

"No." He held his hand out to the couch. "Sit down. Are you thirsty?"

"No."

"Are you just lying because you don't want to touch anything I've touched?"

Bella shook her head. "No. I'm just scared. We need to talk about this."

"Okay." He fell onto the couch, crossing his legs. "Go at it."

Bella sighed. "How long have you had it?"

Punk shrugged. "The doctors don't have an exact date, but the time frame is from... five to six years ago. Give or take a year."

Bella's mouth dropped. "That long?"

Punk nodded. "It doesn't look good, Bell."

"Don't say that."

"I don't have to. My doctors say it enough."

Bella frowned. "I'm sorry, Punk."

"I like that you still call me Punk." He pushed his hair back. "It reminds me of when things used to be normal."

Bella hesitated, but she ended up leaning over, curling her shaking fingers around his hand. He looked at his thigh, then up at her face.

Her eyes were shaking. "Are you scared?"

He blinked for a while, but then he nodded. "Yeah."

Her lids dropped, and she let go of his hand to wipe at the fresh tears that were staining her cheeks. "Should I get tested?"

He looked away. "Yeah."

"Should Danny?"

She watched his Adam's apple bob, the way his eyes looked skyward. His bottom lip started shaking. "Yeah," he choked.

"Punk." Carefully, she pushed his hair back with her fingernails, frowning as she ran the length of her palm around the slope of his face. "Should I be scared?"

He lifted his eyes, that yellowish color, and the only thing Bella could see in them was herself. "Honestly?"

She nodded.

"Yes."

**A/N: I felt bad for giving Punk AIDS, but I knew if I did another like... Jeff story, people would kill me for giving him AIDS, and I would kill myself because I write too many stories about him. Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Wow, it's been a while. Sorry for the wait.**

"Hey. Bell."

Bella turned over when someone shook her, pressing her face harder into the pillow.

"Bell, you need to wake up."

She groaned and pushed the person away. Whoever it was sat beside her and gently nudged her again, putting his hand on her waist when she didn't move.

"Bell, come on."

"What?" She turned and faced who it was, smiling. Punk. "Oh. Good morning."

"Hey." He swiped his hair back. "I'm gonna take you to the doctor's today, if that's okay with you."

Doctor? Why'd she need a doctor?

She sat up. "Can we have breakfast first?"

He shook his head. "Sorry. You can't eat anything. I'll take you out afterward, okay?"

"Okay." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

_I have AIDS._

Punk froze, then slowly pushed her back. "Uh, Bell – "

Her eyes wide with fear, she pressed her hand to her mouth. "I didn't mean... I forgot – I was half asleep – "

"Bell, it's okay." He touched her hair slightly. "You won't get it from kissing me."

"I don't – "

He shushed her. "Just... get ready. Your appointment's in an hour."

She nodded slowly, and stood up, sliding past his body carefully. "Do you... have any extra toothbrushes?"

He frowned. "Uh... yeah. I think. There should be a new one in the drawer."

It was sad that she knew which drawer it was. She didn't say a word, just headed upstairs to the bathroom. Her reflection scared her. She almost looked like he did – her eyes were tired and sunken in, and her hair was unruly.

"You don't have AIDS," she whispered.

"Bell?" Punk knocked. "You find it all right?"

"Uh... " Bella turned on the shower. "Yeah! I'm... I'm fine!"

"Okay." He sighed. "I'll be downstairs."

Bella didn't say anything. She covered her eyes and leaned against the wall, just waiting for the wave of nausea she'd had since she'd woken up to pass.

"You kissed him," she murmured.

She ripped opened the bathroom drawer and searched through the things – some of them hers – and found the unopened toothbrush at the bottom. For a guest, if they'd forgotten one. She remembered putting it in there with him, right before her friend had stayed for the weekend.

When he had AIDS.

And they didn't know.

Could he have given it to her friend?

She looked at her face in the mirror again.

_You can't get it from kissing me_.

She opted for washing her mouth out with soap instead of toothpaste.

* * *

"Are you nervous?"

Bella looked up at Phil from her mug of coffee. It'd been an hour since her appointment, but she was still a little woozy from the blood test. "Of course I'm nervous. Why _wouldn't_ I be?"

He frowned and looked away. "I'm sorry I'm putting you through this."

Bella sighed and closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to see that sad look one more time. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"You certainly have a right to."

"No, I don't." She met his gaze. "You didn't know you had it. I didn't know you had it. It's no one's fault."

"Yes, it is. It's mine."

"Punk – "

"I don't know how I got it, Bell." He looked at his hands. "I just know I did. And it's my fault I didn't realize it sooner."

"How could you?" She desperately wanted to touch him, to let him know that she wasn't afraid, but she just couldn't do it. "There's no symptoms."

"I just can't – " Phil looked toward the door and his eyes widened, glistening over. Bella thought he was going to cry, but the smile forming on his face told her otherwise.

She glanced over.

"Danny," Punk whispered.

Bella watched as Georgie pointed at them, waving her hand at the girl who was trying to give her menus. She hoisted the sleepy baby up in her arms as she weaved her way between tables.

"Bella!" Georgie stopped and held Danny closer to her heart. "Phil."

"Georgie." Bella glared at her. "Give me Danny."

Georgie did, keeping her eyes on Phil the entire time.

The tiny blond wriggled in Bella's arms, opening his droopy eyes to see his mother. Bella barely felt the tears springing in the corners of hers as he grinned at her, grabbing at her face with his hands.

_He could have it._

Danny moved and turned his head, staring straight at Punk. Bella looked up and waited for Punk to meet her eyes, but all he did was stare right back. He frowned when Danny just blinked at him.

"Does he remember me?"

"I don't know," Bella muttered. She jostled the baby a bit. "Danny, it's your daddy."

Danny looked up at Bella, then slowly back at Phil, blinking slowly.

Punk held his arms out. "Come here, Danny."

Georgie pushed Danny farther into Bella's chest. "I don't think that's such a good idea, Phil."

"Georgie!"

Phil dropped his arms slowly, biting his knuckle as he looked at her. "No, she's right." He glanced at Bella. "If you don't feel comfortable with it, I shouldn't touch him."

Bella shot a look at Georgie. "Punk – "

"I actually need to get going." He stood up and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. "I have to be at the arena in a couple of hours."

Bella furrowed her brow. "Arena?"

"Yeah. I have a show tonight."

"A show?" Bella's mouth opened slightly. "You still wrestle?"

"Yeah." He shrugged. "If I don't know how long I'll be able to do it, I want to do it as much as I can."

Bella stood up, making sure to keep Danny upright. "Punk, I don't want – "

"You should watch me tonight." He glanced at Danny, swallowing hard, then back up at her face. He tried to smile. "I mean... if you want to."

Bella nodded. "Okay."

He sighed and looked away, smiling slightly. "I... I gotta go."

"Punk?"

He met her gaze again, but this time, his eyes were glazed over. "Yeah?"

She stalled, but pushed Danny gently against his chest. Punk's arms awkwardly came up too fast, cradling the boy like he had no idea what he doing.

Danny looked up at him, and Punk smiled softly. "Hey, little guy."

Danny struggled, then reached up to touch his cheek.

Bella turned away and put a hand to her eyes. It was too hard to watch the way Phil closed his own at the feel of his son's hand. It was too hard to see the way Phil smiled and kissed his palm.

"This is too hard," she whispered, glancing at Georgie.

Georgie nodded and looked away, eyes shaking.

"Bell, here."

Bella sighed and faced him again, holding out her arms for the baby. Danny shook his head and clutched onto Phil's jacket, and it took everything Phil had in him to pull him away.

"Please be careful, Punk." Bella stroked Danny's hair. "He clearly misses you."

"I miss him, too." Punk ran his finger down Danny's cheek. He glanced at her. "Both of you."

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat. "Take care."

**A/N: Hm. I forgot how much I like this story. Review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I like this story.**

Phil paced outside of Stephanie McMahon's office, wishing he had his cell phone to play with while he waited. It was just unnerving, standing next to the door, listening to her talk to someone. Just the anticipation was causing a cold sweat to break out on the back of his neck.

"Phil."

Phil turned and looked in the direction of his name, smiling softly when he saw Cena a few feet away. "Hey," he said quietly.

"What's going on?"

"I'm just waiting to talk to Stephanie."

"Oh, yeah?" Cena hitched the belt up on his shoulder. "What about?"

"Actually..." Phil shook his head. "Nothing big."

John furrowed his brow. "You all right, man?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You look... sallow."

"Sallow?"

John nodded.

Phil laughed awkwardly and looked away. "Oh. Well, I'm fine. I... I had the flu a couple of days ago. That might explain it."

John watched him for a second or two. "Yeah. Well, I gotta get going. I – "

"Hi."

Phil looked over John's shoulder, frowning at the man standing there. He glanced back at John and motioned to the guy.

John turned, brow raised.

The man licked his smirking top lip and held out his hand. "I'm Dolph Ziggler."

John nodded, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you, man."

Dolph reached out to Punk, quirking his lips when Phil did nothing.

The door behind them opened. "Phil?"

Phil let out a sigh and waved Dolph and John away. "Sorry. Meeting."

Stephanie had a tiny smile on her face when she closed the door. "Ziggler?"

"You saved my ass."

"I don't know why he does that."

"Guess he's just warming up for his promos."

"Could be." She sat down behind her desk, grinning up at him. "You wanted to talk to me?"

"Yeah." Phil looked at the chair behind him before he sat. "I wanted another title run."

"You have one."

"I meant... I meant the World title."

"Oh." Stephanie pursed her lips, leaning forward to lace her hands on the desk. "Listen, Phil, it's nothing against you, I just... There are too many candidates for the spot right now."

"I really..." Phil shrugged. "All right."

"Unless..." Stephanie rubbed her chin. "I don't know. Maybe we can put you in the Elimination Chamber at No Way Out."

"No Way Out?" Punk bit his lip. "What about the Rumble?"

"No Way Out is three weeks after that." Stephanie shrugged. "And the earliest you'd be getting a title shot would be at Wrestlemania."

"Oh, God. Steph, come on. Can't I get it at..."

"Mr. Brooks, I can't guarantee you're getting it at all."

"I meant... Can't I try for the Rumble? Can't we put in a match that guarantees I'll be fighting for it at No Way Out?"

Stephanie frowned, a tiny crease forming between her brows. "Mr. Brooks... why are you so anxious to get the belt?"

"I..." Phil widened his eyes. Should he tell her now? "I'm just pumped, that's all."

"Well, pumped or not, you can't just come in here and demand when and where you want to _win _the title." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. We just can't do it. Earliest is Wrestlemania, and that might not even happen."

"I – "

"So, I suggest you just take the Intercontinental title." Stephanie looked at the computer next to her, nodding her head. "And get ready. Your match is up next."

* * *

"Oh, God, I'm so scared."

"Why?" Georgie flipped on USA, grimacing when she saw what was going on. "Who _are_ these people?"

Bella looked at the TV. "Um... I have no idea."

"You were married to Punk and you don't know who these people are?"

"I think that's Randy Orton."

"Hot damn!"

Bella grinned, jostling Danny on her knee. It was way past his bedtime, and he was practically asleep in her arms, but she felt he should see what his daddy's doing with his life.

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to smile as Georgie's eyes rolled over Randy. "He's something, isn't he?"

Georgie nodded. "Yes. _Something_."

Bella glanced at the TV when the next match was announced. CM Punk versus William Regal for the Intercontinental title. "Title?"

"Is that a belt?"

"Yeah. I didn't know he was up for a title." Bella frowned. "God, that's so sad."

"Why? Isn't that a good thing?"

"Well..." Bella looked at her. "With his situation."

Georgie rolled her eyes. "His _situation_. He's living his life. Be fucking happy for him."

"I _am_, Georgie. I'm just... It's just hard, okay?"

Georgie's hard look softened slightly. "I'm sorry."

Bella just shook her head and tried to concentrate on the TV. Her throat dried up when she heard Phil's theme song start playing. It'd been so long since she'd watched one of his matches – she almost forgot how annoying his music was.

"God, it's like someone's throwing up," Georgie grumbled.

Bella laughed, or at least tried to, but nothing came out. Phil looked so_ tired_. He spun around and pointed at the fans, but his eyes were yellow and ashy. She could see how run down he was.

"God, I just hope he's all right," she whispered.

"He will be."

William Regal came out next, pushing Layla around like she was a dog.

Bella frowned. "What the hell? When did this happen?"

"Who _is_ that?"

"Layla. I guess... on-screen relationship."

"Ew!"

"I know." Bella glanced back at the TV when the bell rang. Phil seemed pretty normal for the most part – he was hustling around Regal and tapping his hands away when he lunged at him. "Maybe this won't be as bad as I think it will."

"It won't be." Georgie snorted. "That Regal guy just tried to grab your man's junk."

"He's not my man."

"Oh." Georgie picked up her drink. "Sorry. I forgot where I was for a second."

Bella laughed slightly.

"Holy shit!" Georgie pointed. "That cock sucker has brass knuckles! That's not allowed, is it?"

Bella's eyes widened. "No." Her hand was in her mouth, gnawing on her fingernails, hoping to god this was set up and Punk was gonna stop him from using them.

"Shit!" Georgie screamed.

Bella closed her eyes. She didn't want to see this.

"Oh, God, that's a lot of blood."

"_Blood_?"

* * *

"Fuck!" Phil covered his forehead, trying to catch all the flowing blood in his palm so it didn't hit the mat. But Regal knocked into him again, sending the liquid like a spray all over Punk's chest.

He could hear the fans booing, but that wasn't his concern. His blood was all over the mat. "Ref! Disqualification!"

The Ref shook his head.

_Fuck_.

He hadn't seen it.

Punk waved Regal away. "I gotta get out of here!"

"Where are you going?" Regal tried to grab his arm.

"Don't touch me!" Punk stumbled down the steps, tripping over his feet. He landed against the cold metal of the ramp, spilling his blood all over that too. "Fuck! Leave me alone!"

Regal was chasing him. "Punk, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Don't follow me! Don't touch me!" He limped toward the exit. "I gotta get out of here!"

* * *

"It seems that... "

"What is he doing, Michael?"

"It seems that CM Punk has just left the building!"

"If that's a joke, Michael, it's not funny. We came here to see a title match!"

Bella covered her mouth. She felt like she was going to throw up. "Oh God."

"What are the announcers saying?" Georgie turned up the volume, just as the bell went off. "Wait, what just happened?"

"Counted out," Bella mumbled.

The camera man followed the trail of blood that led from the ramp all the way to the center of the ring.

"Maybe he's seriously injured," Michael Cole said earnestly.

"Injured or not, he just ran out of here! It was uncalled for!"

"King, this could be serious."

"This _is _serious! These fans wanted to see a great fight!"

"_Shut up_," Bella hissed. She stood up. "Turn it off."

Georgie's eyes were glued to the set.

"Turn it off!" Bella screamed. She grabbed the remote and shut the TV down. "God_damn _it."

"Bella, we need to see – "

"I'm going to talk him." Bella pushed Danny into Georgie's arms. "Take him to bed."

"Where are you _going_?"

"I'm going to the arena."

"The arena? Bella! _Bella_!"

**A/N: OH NO. Review.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: WHAT WHAT. Thanks for the reviews, punks! (HA PUN.)**

"Please, you _have_ to let me in!" Bella tried desperately to get past the security guard, but the man grabbed her with his big burly hand and held her back. She struggled, pointing at the hallway. "I'm CM Punk's ex-wife!"

"Sure, lady."

"I am!" She whimpered when his grip tightened. "Please. He was bleeding really bad and I need to see if he's – "

"Listen, lady. Don't make me throw you out of here." He crossed his arms. "I know you think you can get past by batting your eyelashes and looking pretty, but this isn't a movie. You're not getting backstage, even if you're Vince McMahon's daughter."

Bella groaned slightly and slumped back, ready to turn toward the exit. She didn't have a ticket, a wristband or a VIP pass. There was no way she was getting to Phil, so what was the point?

Just as she was going to give up, someone heading toward that same hallway caught her attention. The blond hair was a dead giveaway, and before she even thought about it, she was yelling, "Chris!"

Chris turned and spotted her, but he furrowed his brow and kept walking.

"Chris!" Bella fought against the security guard again. "Chris, it's Bella! Bella Brooks!"

"All right, lady, that's it. You're outta here – "

Chris turned around, cocking his head. "Phil's wife?"

"Ex-wife!" Bella struggled, screaming when the guard picked her up off the ground. "Chris, I gotta see Punk! He was hurt really bad in the ring. I need to see if he's all right. Help me!"

Chris was stunned, staring at her blankly, but he shook his head clear and started toward them. "Hey, hey!"

The guard turned.

Chris motioned to the floor. "Set her down. Let her through."

"But – "

"She's with me." Chris rolled his hand, holding it out for her to grab when she came through. He smiled and kissed her cheek. "How've you been, little Bella Brooks?"

"Peachy. Where would he be?"

"If he got hurt? With a trainer." Chris put his arm around her neck. "Come on, I'll take you there."

"I appreciate it."

"What have you been up to?" Chris held open a door for her, looking around as he followed her through. The hallway was practically empty. "How's that runt of yours?"

"He's fine."

Chris frowned. "Something bothering you?"

Bella let out a breath, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry. I'm just worried about Punk."

One side of Chris's mouth lifted. "You still call him Punk, huh?"

"Yeah. I hate his real name."

Chris nodded. "Don't worry about him. He probably juiced himself anyway, so – "

"He didn't. Regal used brass knuckles."

"Did you see him holding his head after he did, though? He was probably – "

"He didn't, Chris!"

Chris frowned slightly, shrugging. "Sorry. I'm just trying to calm you down."

Bella sighed and stopped walking, covering her face with her hands. She felt so rundown, so tired. She leaned against the wall without realizing it, just concentrating on her breathing.

"Bells."

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "What, Chris?"

He put his hand on her shoulder, and he didn't speak until she looked at him. "What's the matter?"

She felt herself crumbling, crumbling right underneath his strong grip. She didn't even want to see the look on his face as she collapsed into his chest, the tears flowing from her eyes freely.

He stumbled slightly. "Jesus, Bella – "

"Chris. Chris, you have to promise me something."

"What?"

"Promise me you won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?"

"Promise me!" she screeched.

"All right, all right!" He held her tightly, running his hand up and down her back. "What?"

Bella lifted her head, make-up running down her face. She'd gotten it all over his dress shirt, and she knew he'd have to change before he went on the air, but she really didn't give a fuck. She wiped at her cheeks and let out a shaky breath.

His eyes coaxed her. "Bella. Come on."

She sniffed. "Punk has AIDS."

* * *

"I don't know why you were so worried," the trainer said calmly, wiping the excess blood away from the bandaged area of Phil's forehead. "It's just a small laceration. You don't even need stitches."

"I guess I just... " Phil laughed weakly. "Freaked, that's all."

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about."

"Right." Phil watched carefully as the trainer took off his gloves and threw them away, then turned to wash his hands. He breathed heavily and got up. "Thanks for everything."

"It's my job," he said with a smile.

Phil grinned quickly and ducked out, frowning when he saw Chris consoling someone a few feet away from him. He figured it was a diva pulling another act to get Chris into bed with her, but when he noticed the charm anklet laying against her snow-stained moccasins, he knew it wasn't a diva.

"Bell?"

Both of them jumped, then turned toward him, shifting their feet. Chris looked sick to his stomach, and Bella looked absolutely exhausted, but he'd never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life.

Phil frowned. "What are you doing here?" His heart stopped. "Is it about Danny?"

"What?" Bella shook her head. "No. No. I was... I saw... You got hurt."

"Oh." Phil felt his heart start again, about two times faster. "You... came here to see if I was all right?"

"Yeah. I was... worried about you."

He smiled slightly and moved closer to her, running his fingers softly down her cheek. She closed her eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

Chris cleared his throat. "I'm gonna... I gotta... do stuff."

Phil met his gaze, but Chris looked away and shifted, then turned, hurrying away. He kept glancing back at him until he disappeared around the corner.

"What's his problem?" Phil asked.

Bella sniffled. "I uh... "

He looked at her, meeting her eyes intensely. His stomach dropped. "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"He asked, Punk. I couldn't lie – "

"_Isabella_!" Phil turned away, biting his knuckle so hard he almost broke the skin. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How could you?"

"I couldn't help it, Punk! He was such a good friend when we were married and I – "

"You what? Couldn't wait to tell him I had _AIDS_?"

"It wasn't like I was gossiping, Punk!"

"What were you doing, then?"

"He was comforting me! He knew something was wrong."

Phil crossed his arms. "Did you tell him _you_ might have it?"

Bella bit her lip. "Not exactly."

"Great." Phil laughed humorlessly. "Perfect. Well, thanks a lot, Bella. You don't mind if I move back in with you, do you? I won't be able to afford the house after they _fire me_!"

"They can't fire you." Bella grabbed his arms before he turned away. "_Look at me_."

He lifted his gaze.

She shook him. "They can't fire you. That's illegal."

"They can't fire me for having AIDS," he said quietly. He nodded. "But they can fire me for something else as a cover."

"They won't do that, Punk. They won't even know."

Phil smiled bitterly. "Bella," he breathed. He hesitated, then kissed her forehead. "My sweet, naïve Bella."

She blinked at him cluelessly, her eyelashes dried with mascara.

He shook his head. "You don't think Chris will tell anyone?"

"He's my friend."

"It's not something you keep quiet, Bella." He sighed. "I could hurt a lot of people."

"But you won't. You're careful."

"But something like tonight could happen again." Phil looked over his shoulder at the area Chris had once been standing in. "Did you see the way he looked at me?"

"I didn't notice."

"He was disgusted, Bell." Phil sighed and ran his hands down the length of her hair, pressing the strands against her cheeks as he cupped her face. "He was disgusted and afraid. And now he's gonna tell everyone about it because he thinks it's the right thing to do – to warn them."

"He promised he wouldn't tell."

"He – "

"Phil?"

Phil turned, dropping his hands from Bella's face as he turned to Stephanie. She looked upset, almost angry, but her eyes were shaking as she looked at the two.

"Yeah, Steph?" he asked weakly.

Stephanie glanced at Bella awkwardly, then stepped toward him, straightening. "I need to talk to you." She looked at Bella again. "About something. Will you come to my office, please?"

Phil nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

He went to follow her, but Bella grabbed his hand. He turned, frowning.

Her eyes were watery. "Will you come to my house after?"

He smiled slightly. "Yeah."

"Mr. Brooks?" Steph waved her hand. "Come with me."

"I'm sorry," Bella whispered.

"Don't be." Phil squeezed her fingers slightly. "Promises are made to be broken."

**A/N: HAHAHAH JERICHO BLEW PUNK IN. Oh, I love him. Anyone else think I was talking about Edge when I said blond hair? For once, it wasn't. It should've been, but someone who was married to Punk doesn't deserve to be friends with Edge. Review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: After last night, I'm tempted to kill Punk within the next chapter. And he's going to fall off a ladder. Sweet, sweet irony.  
**

Isabella had tried her hardest not to fall asleep, but it was well after one in the morning when she finally heard the front door open. She sat up on the couch and waited, listening to it close, hearing his heavy footsteps.

He did not look good when he stopped in the doorway, his jacket trailing behind him in his hand.

She bit her lip. "Are you fired?"

Phil sighed, quirking his lips slightly. "No."

"But...?"

"But they're not happy." He put his coat on the back of the couch and leaned his hands against it, looking down at her. "They told me I should've told them. That I threatened lives by not doing so."

"So what are they going to do?"

"They're going to let me keep doing what I'm doing." He shrugged. "And when the day comes the day comes."

"There's no _day_ coming."

Phil smiled slightly, eyes sad.

Bella hesitated, but grabbed his hands, squeezing them tightly. They were so cold. "Come here. Sit with me."

Phil slid around the couch, falling next to her. He shook his hair back and just waited, eyes searching her face.

She ran her fingers down his cheek. "You look tired."

"I am tired." He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the couch. "I'm always tired."

"Maybe you shouldn't keep wrestling, then." She touched his hair next, moving the silky strands against her skin. "If it's wearing you down, maybe you should stop while you're ahead."

"And do what? Wait around to die?"

"Don't say that, Punk."

He opened his eyes. "Why are you so goddamn optimistic?"

"Because you're—because I am."

He shook his head. "You shouldn't be. You're just gonna break your heart."

Bella frowned slightly, touching the white bandage above his eyebrow. "My heart's been breaking for the past year."

Phil's eyes glazed, then started shifting, and he looked away, blinking.

She turned his face toward her again. "Be honest, Punk."

He swallowed. "What?"

"Could I have it?"

"I already told you—"

"Honestly. Not your pessimistic response. Honest."

He nodded. "Yes. You could. You probably do."

Bella let out a shaky sigh. "Can... can it be treated?"

"Yours?" Phil shrugged. "Probably."

Bella leaned her elbow against the back of the couch, moving against Phil slightly. "Were you scared when you first found out?"

"Terrified."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He shrugged. "I couldn't really talk about it."

"I thought you could talk to me about anything."

"Not this."

"Why not?"

He looked at her, his Adam's Apple bobbing. "I couldn't talk to you because I knew I'd put you in danger. Put _Danny_—" He choked, stopping.

Isabella felt her stomach drop.

Phil looked away, knuckle between his teeth. It was a few seconds before he turned back to her, eyes wet. "Put Danny in danger."

"It's not like you did it willingly."

Phil covered his face with his hands and sat silently. Isabella didn't really know how to react until his shoulders started shaking, and he turned away, falling against the cushion. His muffled sobs made her heart pound.

"Punk—"

"I need to get out of here." He shifted, his eyes peeking out at her. He sat up quickly. "I need to go. Home. I need to go."

"Punk, no—"

"Don't stop me." He snagged his jacket, side-stepping her hand. "Don't touch me."

"Punk!" Isabella hopped over the back of the couch and hustled after him, slamming the door shut as he pulled it open. "Don't run away."

He closed his eyes painfully, thumping his forehead against the wood. "I need to. I've hurt you enough. Jesus _Christ_, just let me get out of here!"

"No." She flipped him around, but he wouldn't look at her. "I won't let you leave."

"You have to." He squirmed, lifting his face to the ceiling, eyes shaky. "Goddamn it, don't touch me! Stop touching me."

"Calm _down_."

"No. I need to get out of here. I don't want you to—"

Isabella grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pulled his mouth to hers, catching him mid-sentence, mid-thought, mid-breath. She could taste coffee and nothing else, and her eyes closed at the nostalgia that jabbed at the back of her brain.

Punk's hands were in the air, afraid to touch her, but she felt so good and so right, he couldn't help but let his lids droop, let his lips move, even though he knew it would only end it heartbreak.

She pulled back, breathing hard, eyelashes touching her cheeks. "I'm not afraid of you." She lifted them shakily. "I'm afraid of _losing_ you."

Phil bit his lip ring and looked away, feeling his eyes water all over again. His hands found her waist, the way his fingers fit so perfectly against her hip bones. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm going to be in town for a few more days. Mind if I stick around? See Danny?"

"Absolutely not."

"Mind if I stick around?" His lids lifted, eyes intense. "See you?"

She shook her head. "Absolutely not."

**A/N: WHATEVER. Review.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I have written this in a while. If Punk cashes in this Sunday, he's getting pneumonia and dying in the next chapter.**

Phil never wanted to start smoking.

He hated the way it smelled. He hated the way it tasted. He hated the way he felt after he finished. He hated the way it turned his nails yellow, or the way it made his breath smell like an ashtray.

But Phil hated that he was going to die.

You have to try everything at least once before you go.

He wasn't feeling it today. His body ached and he was light-headed, but he came into work anyway, even though he knew he wasn't going to be wrestling anyone until that gash on his forehead was completely healed.

_You almost put your friends in danger_.

That's what Stephanie had said to him. That's what she had to said to him when she wouldn't meet his gaze or shake his hand when he stood up to leave.

_Friends_?

He had to laugh.

"Hey."

Phil looked up, frowning slightly when he saw Rey standing there. Sitting on the flower ledge outside of the arena, Rey barely came up to Phil's knees.

"What's going on?" Phil asked weakly, looking out at the street.

"I just wanted to see how you're holding up."

"Thanks."

Rey glanced away and coughed, crossing his small arms. "I, uh... heard about—"

"Everyone has." Phil smiled slightly. "Who told you? Chris?"

"No, Steph... Steph made an announcement."

"An _announcement_?"

Rey nodded. "Just a... you know, cautionary statement."

Phil scoffed, smirking at the cigarette burning away between his fingers. "Be careful? You might catch AIDS? Don't stand too close to Phil, he might breathe on you."

Rey shrugged. "She's just doing her job."

"Yeah." Phil dragged lightly, letting the smoke curl out of his mouth as he watched Rey. "Her _job_."

Rey cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't come out here to pick on Steph."

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't." Phil nodded at the door. "You can go now."

"Phil—"

"I said you can go."

Rey blinked up at him for a second or two, but finally he conceded, turning toward the arena. "You changed."

Phil smiled at his knees, brushing some ash off his pants. "Oh, what a terminal illness can do to a person."

Rey shook his head. "You think it's bad that Steph is calling out your sickness. I think it's even worse that you're using it as an excuse to quit."

"Thanks, Tony Robbins." Phil flipped his cigarette away, hearing it sizzle in the puddle it landed in.

It wasn't until he heard the door close that he covered his eyes and forward against his legs.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Phil looked over at Isabella weakly. He went to her place after the show and found her house empty, so he went home, only to find her curled up on the couch. He woke her while he attempted at making himself something to eat, but she ended up cooking for him at midnight because he couldn't figure out how to use the stove.

She touched his hand. "You look tired."

"I am."

"Then go to sleep."

He smiled weakly, glancing up at her through his lashes.

She smiled, too. "I'm serious, Punk. Go to bed."

"I get pretty lonely."

Bella watched him carefully, eyes darting over his face. "I do, too."

Phil sighed and pushed himself to his feet, taking his dish to the sink. "You should probably get used to that."

He stopped moving when she hugged him from behind.

"Stop talking like that," she whispered.

He felt his lip tugging, denting his cheek. "You need to grow up. Face reality."

"I'm not the only one."

He turned in her arms. "Bell—"

"You don't _know_ if you're going to die."

Phil rolled his eyes. "We've _talked_ and _talked_ about this—"

"No. _You've_ talked and I've listened. Well, I'm done listening. You need to realize that there's a chance you can make it through all of this. You need to realize that there's a chance you're going to _live_, long and happily."

"And _you_ need to realize that I have it, that you could have it, that Danny could have it, and that we're all going to die from it. We can be one big, fucking happy AIDS-infected family." Phil saw the way her eyes glazed over, and he closed his own, because he didn't want to see her cry. "Bell, I—"

"You're just talking, I know." She stepped back. "You should go to bed."

Phil looked at her again, and he shook his head. "I don't want to."

She let out a breath. "Fine. I will."

"Bell—"

Her arm slipped through his hand before he could grab her.

Phil watched her climb the stairs, turn down the hallway. The bedroom door shut a moment later.

He sighed and reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the carton as he opened the front entrance. The snow was coming down and he slipped going down the steps.

It was quiet.

The city was winking at him, blinking lights in the dark, disappearing through the clouds of smoke. He was always surrounded by the gray air. He was always stuck in the dark.

He was always choking.

Phil glanced up at the house. The bedroom light was off.

He sighed and threw his cigarette into the snow.

He hated smoking.

Bella was curled up in the comforter when he pushed open the door. It quieter in there than it was outside, and it was warm. It smelled like her.

He put his hand on her back as he gingerly climbed on top of the blankets, shifting so he had his chest pressed to her back.

She turned her head, looking at him.

He sighed. "I don't have to die."

She smiled and flipped around gracefully.

He shook his head. "I don't have to die."

"No, you don't."

He swallowed hard. "I'm just afraid I will."

**A/N: Be afraid, Punk. You cash in that briefcase, shit's going down. Review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So he didn't cash it in on Edge, and he's turning heel (let's hope) so he won't die… just yet. He better watch his ass, though.**

Phil flipped his head back from the scalding water pouring out of the bathroom faucet and leaned his hands against the sink. It was hot as hell in there with the steam choking the oxygen right out of his lungs, but it was definitely going to be worth it.

He ran his hand across the fogged up mirror.

He wanted change. He certainly got it.

His eyes didn't look as dark or sallow. His cheeks were still sinking in, but the bags under his eyes were disappearing quickly.

Oh, what blond hair can do for a person.

Phil pushed back the wet strands, making sure there wasn't any black left. The last time he tried bleaching his hair, he ended up missing a complete section right near the back of his head. Bella had laughed about it, he remembered that much.

"Punk?"

Phil looked at himself in the mirror once more before he let out a long breath, turning to open the bathroom door. The bedroom was much colder, but Phil went straight downstairs, hoping to catch Bella before she ended up bringing in all the stuff she'd bought by herself.

He skidded into the kitchen, grinning. "Good afternoon, beau—"

Someone behind him screamed and bopped him straight on his newly dyed hair with something hard and leathery. He stumbled slightly and turned, holding his hands up.

"Bella! Someone's in your _house_!" Georgie hollered, making a run for the door. "Keep Danny in the car!"

"Georgie, it's _me_!" Phil scrubbed his head thoroughly, glaring at her. "_Phil_. You know, Danny's _father_?"

Georgie blinked at him, her purse clutched to her chest. "_Phil_?"

Bella came in, breathless and pink from the cold. She turned to Phil, freezing.

He smiled weakly. "Surprise."

Bella pursed her lips slightly. "You went back to blond."

"Yep." He shrugged. "Thought it was time for a change."

"Uh huh." Bella faced Georgie slowly, holding up a bag. "Can you... go get some more cold medicine for Danny?"

Georgie looked between them. "He's not sick."

"Just in case." Bella pushed her toward the door. "I'll pay you back, _promise_."

Phil watched them disappear, still bickering, and then the front door slammed. He had just started moving toward the hallway when Bella came barreling around the corner, spearing him to the counter as she kissed him.

Phil struggled slightly, trying to keep his towel on, but his eyes slowly shut, falling into the kiss he'd fallen into many times before.

"I hate you," she hissed. "You know how much I fucking love your blond hair."

"I didn't do this for you," he said between kisses. "Mainly because I completely forgot."

"It took all I had to stop myself in front of Georgie." Her hand tugged the towel still firm in his grip. "Take that off before I take it off with my teeth."

Phil froze.

Bella kept kissing his slack mouth, going down to his neck. She stopped when he didn't move. "Punk?"

He pushed her back slightly. "You know we can't."

"Can't what?"

"I have _AIDS_, Bell. How do you think it gets spread?"

"I already have it," she said breathlessly.

He grabbed her shoulder. "_No_. Don't say it like it's _nothing_."

She blinked up at him. "I'm sorry."

"You should be." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I almost didn't stop myself."

She crossed her arms vulnerably. "So we can't... ever?"

"I'd rather not."

"Even with protection?"

He shook his head. "Bell, I'd really rather we didn't."

"So that's the one aspect of the straightedge lifestyle you kept to?"

He smiled slightly when she grinned at him. "Guess I didn't _completely_ lose myself."

* * *

"I'm not really that hungry."

"Punk, you have to eat." Bella put the plate in front of him, frowning when he just stared at it. "Come on, it's your favorite!"

"I don't have a favorite anymore. I can barely keep anything down."

"I always knew you were bulimic," Georgie mumbled nonchalantly. "I'll eat it if he doesn't want it."

"You already ate," Bella snapped.

"No, no, she can have it." Punk stood so roughly that he knocked into the table, causing his plate to hit his glass of water and topple over. "I'd just _throw it up _anyway."

Bella turned to Georgie after Punk stormed out of the kitchen. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"I _hate_ him," Georgie hissed.

"Punk has _AIDS_, Georgie. Was the bulimic joke necessary?"

"He's an asshole." Georgie swallowed, motioning to the baby thumping around in the high chair. "He put you and Dan in danger."

"Not on _purpose_!"

"How do you know? Maybe he already knew about it."

"You're so full of shit, Georgie. Punk wouldn't do that."

"Punk also wouldn't have promiscuous sex, but I guess that one's a given."

"How do you know he got it from sleeping with someone?"

"He dated _Maria_. If he didn't get AIDS from her, he certainly got _something_."

Bella turned to Danny, wiping the food from his mouth. "Punk may have had it before we got married but he didn't _know_ about it."

"Well, he's certainly milking it."

Bella stared at her. "Are you _serious_?"

"Completely."

"No wonder Punk always said you were a bitch."

"He's the one acting like a little bitch! _No, I'm not hungry. No, I'm too tired. Stop touching me, my arm hurts. I have AIDS._"

"Georgie, you are out of your _fucking_ mind."

"You should talk! Practically moving in with this bastard because the son of a bitch _claims_ he's dying."

"He was my _husband_, Georgie."

"And you got _divorced_. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Not when I still love him!"

Georgie was silent for a minute, eyes searching Bella's distraught face. "Are you serious?"

Bella fell into the chair beside her. "I never stopped. I don't even remember why we got divorced."

"His career."

"Oh." Bella rubbed her palm against her forehead. "God, what a stupid thing to get divorced over."

"You were young, you didn't trust him." Georgie narrowed her eyes at the empty doorway. "Which was clearly legitimate."

Bella sighed, leaning her face against her hands. "I don't know how we're going to deal with all of this."

"All of what?"

Bella looked at Danny. "What if he has it?"

Georgie shrugged sympathetically. "If he has it, he has it."

"What if I lose him?"

"Phil or Daniel?"

"Either."

"If you lose Phil, your life would be a lot better." Georgie frowned. "But if you lose Danny..."

"My world would fall apart, Georgie." Bella lifted her eyes. "For both of them."

Georgie sighed. "Who thought you'd be going through all this shit when you decided to get hitched to that asshole?"

"I _never_ imagined having to deal with this."

Georgie patted her hand slightly. "You'll get through it."

"I have to."

A loud thump reverberated above them, shaking the kitchen dramatically.

Georgie glanced up. "What a fucking baby. He's having a tantrum."

Bella stood slowly. "That sounded worse than him stomping his feet."

"Don't you dare go check on him."

"I'll feel better if I did," Bella murmured, hurrying toward the stairs.

"Don't! That's just what he wants!"

Bella ignored her and jogged up the steps, turning down the hallway to their bedroom. The scream ripped out of her throat before her feet even started pounding against the ground to get to Phil, who was visibly sprawled across the floor, convulsing.

"Georgie!" she screeched, falling to her knees next to him. "Call an ambulance!"

"_Why_?"

"Because Punk's having... I don't know! I think he's having a seizure!" Bella tried to stabilize his head, but he kept shaking, eyes rolling back, mouth foaming with spit and blood. "Punk, come on, stop this. Stop it."

He stilled, eyes wide and glazed.

Bella could only hear her breath. "Punk?" She shook him slightly, frowning he flopped with her movements. "Punk. Punk, wake up!"

Silence made her eyes water.

"Punk, wake _up_! Fucking wake up!"

He stiffened suddenly, and his mouth widened, eyes shaking. He choked out a gasp, his chest rising off the floor.

Bella swallowed. "Punk?"

He melted away, eyes shutting.

**A/N: Was that the **_**death rattle**_**? You'll find out. Review.**


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